


Calculated Risk

by nochick_fics



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-10
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-10-17 06:14:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10588095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nochick_fics/pseuds/nochick_fics
Summary: Roy and Jean traverse the pitfalls of their new (and secret) relationship.





	1. Unlikely Opportunity

For Roy, drinking without Maes was boring. Not boring enough to forgo imbibing altogether; he would never be _that_ bored. But he didn't realize just how accustomed he had become to his friend's endless ranting about his darling Elysia until the habit was removed from him, leaving only the muted sound of the bar's other patrons to keep him company.

He supposed it couldn't be helped. Although Roy had little in the way of immediate kin himself to speak of, he understood that every now and then the man's family had to take priority over their after-work ritual. It was what it was. Still, it was a pain to drink by himself. Drinking alone always seemed to invite a plethora of unwanted attention from observing eyes; not that Roy cared about such things per se, but it could be a bother if left unchecked, moreover if said bother came in the form of a female looking for company. And an officer drinking by his lonesome in bar was the right kind of company to many women. Contrary to popular belief--which Roy admittedly fueled by a strategically implemented dating routine that was, at its core, undeniably platonic--the opposite sex held little interest to him. The reason was simple, if wholly unbelievable, enough:

Roy loved men.

To be more accurate, he loved cock.

_Boy,_ did he ever.

Maes was the only one who knew the truth, aside from the all too few and far between one night stands he had dared to chance, those men with nameless faces writhing desperately above or below him, their intertwined bodies a sweat and cum-slicked ball of fury on a dingy bed in a rented room. It wasn't necessarily the way Roy wanted it, but it was the way that it had to be. Because, as Maes so witlessly pointed out to him time and time again, he would never be able to get to the top of the military if they found out that he liked to top men. While there were still certain things that Roy would never again compromise in the name of duty, his personal life, unfortunately, did not apply. He had made his peace with that choice long ago. As much as possible.

Sure, Roy sometimes thought it would be nice to have something more. A relationship, however discreet it had to be, sounded like a welcome change from the rat race, both of having to drive endless miles for random sex and of having to pretend he was even remotely interested in the women he “dated” to keep up appearances. He had pondered more than once during Maes' endless fawning what it might be like to have someone waiting at home for him, to anticipate a warm smile greeting him at the door as opposed to cold silence.

He shook his head and took a sip of his drink, chastising himself for such folly. Domestic bliss was hardly an option for a man like him. Besides, even if it was a worthwhile aspiration, it wasn't as if the perfect man was just going to fall into his lap and say--

“Hey there, Chief. Mind if I sit down?”

*****

He had always known that Jean Havoc could be, well, a bit of an idiot. But to be fair, it seemed that he was only an idiot where the opposite sex was concerned. Luckily, now was not one of those times.   
  
Roy had to admit that there were far worse ways to spend two hours besides speculating--rather outlandishly--about the root of Breda's fear of dogs and whose ass Hawkeye _couldn't_ kick. At least he was spared from having to suffer a photograph of a certain pig-tailed princess being shoved in his face every five minutes. Of course, it could have been the alcohol; by that point, they had both gone through a somewhat generous amount of the stuff. But be it by design or enhanced by some good old fashioned 120-proof, Roy found himself lamenting the fact that he ultimately knew very little about one of his most trusted officers. Sure, he knew that Havoc had a proficiency with guns matched only by Hawkeye, but he had never taken the time to notice just how damn clever the man really was. The opportunity rarely ever presented itself at work, this was true, but to think he had been missing out on things like the subtle curve of his lips upon uttering a keen observation; those eyes, ever so blue, gleaming wickedly over a sly remark; the soothing sound of his hearty guffaw, which required a smile in response, at the very least.

All of it, all of _him,_ right under his nose all along.

Wait... what the hell was he thinking about? Under _no_ circumstance, for entirely too many reasons to count, should he have been ruminating about Havoc. Not in _that_ way.

Even if he was.

“...with you?”

Roy blinked at Jean. “I'm sorry,” he said, cursing himself for becoming distracted, especially by thoughts he had no business thinking. “What did you say?”

Jean narrowed his eyes in amused suspicion and smiled knowingly.

But what exactly _was it_ that he knew? If Roy didn't know any better, he would have sworn Havoc was... nah. Impossible.

“I was just asking if Hughes normally came drinking with you,” he repeated before taking a deep drag from his cigarette. The man smoked like a chimney; Roy was amazed that he was in as great a shape as he was. Not that he was thinking about Havoc's shape... or form... or body.... Much.

“Yes.” Roy polished off his... well, he had lost count of precisely how many drinks he'd had, which really wasn't helping matters, not when his coherency had become so lax that he was visually sexing up Havoc. __  
  
Havoc, of all men!

“We usually have a few together after work,” he continued, calmly waving off the bartender's offer for a refill. “It's something we've done for quite a few years now.”

“You've been friends for a long time,” Jean observed.

Roy nodded. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Havoc pulling another cigarette out of its pack and willed himself not to turn and look at the man's hands. Some men were ass men, some men were cock men. Roy was, interestingly enough, a hands man. He _loved_ a nice pair of hands, preferably roaming all over his body. Granted, he'd seen Havoc's a thousand times before, but never this close. And never while wondering how they might feel against his bare skin. He ran his own hand across his eyes and tried to blink himself back to some semblance of sobriety. That was, however, the least of his problems at the moment.   
  
He clearly needed to get laid. _Fuck,_ did he ever. Maybe then he wouldn't go around ogling his subordinates and wondering how their hands felt all over his body... and trying not to get an erection in the middle of a bar over the thought of it.

“You know, it's a good thing he's married," Jean said. "If not, I would have had to wonder about the two of you.”

Roy's teeth clenched at the accusation. It was a joke, nothing more; he _knew_ that. But when such insinuations hit too close to home, no matter how playful, it was only natural to become somewhat ruffled.

“Very funny, Havoc,” he said with what he hoped was a natural sounding chuckle. “I didn't know you were such a comedian.”

“There's a lot of things you don't know about me, Chief.” Jean turned in his seat to face Roy and when did his eyes get to be so goddamn blue? “I bet you think I'm just an idiot, don't you? At least when it comes to women. Am I right?”

“No, of course not.” Roy was stunned--and impressed--by Havoc's dead-on assessment, but damned if he was about to let him find out about it. “I would hardly call one of my finest men an idiot.”

Jean smiled coyly. “You've called me an idiot plenty of times,” he pointed out.

“Oh. I have, haven't I?”

The two men grinned at Roy's convenient lack of memory. For Roy, it proved to be just the diversion he needed to snap him out of his Havoc-stupor. Considering the man in such a sexual way, even for a minute, as well as entertaining the ridiculous notion that Havoc was purposely fueling his imagined innuendo--that was just craziness. It was time to put such ideas to rest once and for all... and perhaps take a not-so-impromptu road trip to tend to that other fast-growing issue. _Very_ soon.

“I should get going,” he announced. “I'm sure I've kept you long enough.” Roy reached into his pocket and pulled out a clip of bills. He peeled off a generous amount and tossed them onto the bar.

“You've hardly kept me at all,” Jean reassured him. “Say, why don't you let me drive you home?”   
  
"... Okay." 

Had he been a little more sober, Roy probably would have been able to think of an excuse suitable enough to beg off Havoc's offer without hesitation. But deep down, the truth of the matter was that he didn't _want_ to. Roy wanted the man's company if only for a little while longer; he liked being around Havoc like this, away from work, man to man. Surely there was no further harm to be found in an innocent car ride, whereupon he would thank him kindly for the gesture, go inside, head straight for the bedroom, fantasize about fucking him and beat himself off until both his hand _and_ cock went numb, then sleep it all off and pretend the past few hours were nothing more than a mere act of fellowship between co-workers. Simple enough.   
  
Until... 

*****

"Do you want to come in for some coffee?"

“Sure,” Jean said, shutting off the ignition. “You can...” He snickered and tried again. “You can handle opening the door by yourself, right, Boss?”   
  
"Oh, shut up." 

Upon leaving the bar, the two men had made their way to Jean's car. Roy was still so distracted by the surreality of seeing Havoc in this new light that he had thought nothing at all of waiting at the backseat door until Jean casually reminded him that he was off-duty and, therefore, would not be chauffeuring him anywhere. What could Roy say? It was a force of habit.

He opened the car door--all by himself--and got out, trying and failing to ignore the laughter behind him. It was still quite the lovely sound. For the first time, Roy wondered whether or not Havoc acted like a wholly different creature around women, or if women were plain just stupid. Those were the only two possible scenarios he could fathom for his lack of a girlfriend, because underneath it all, the man really was just about as perfect a package as they came. 

Jean extinguished his cigarette in the ashtray and stepped out of the car. He followed Roy up the steps to what was actually a rather humble-looking abode, considering the man's rank and reputed ego. Upon walking inside, he gawked at the near immaculate cleanliness of the interior; this was no den of iniquity, not by a long shot.

“Are you making fun of my bachelor pad?” Roy asked, noting his expression.

“Not at all.” Jean shook his head. “It's nice. Homey.”

Roy tilted his head slightly at the description. “Thanks,” he said, tossing his keys on a small table by the door. He cleared his throat and tried to pay little heed to the proximity between them. The best thing for him to do now was get the man his damn coffee and get him the hell out of there.

“You know... since it's getting late, you may as well stay for dinner. If you want.”   
  
Well then. So much for getting rid of him.   
  
He glanced up at Jean and offered him a nonchalant shrug. “I'm not the greatest cook in the world but it'll be edible, if nothing else... for the most part.” 

Cursing himself yet again, Roy turned to walk into the kitchen to start the coffee... when his wrist was seized by a hand that was just as strong as he had imagined it. Jean pulled him around and gazed down at him, and Roy's heart leapt into and damn near out of his throat. This... well, this just couldn't be happening! There still, even now, had to be some sort of logical, _heterosexual_ reason that Jean was holding onto him like that and looking at him like that and leaning over towards him like that--

“I was hoping I could stay for more than dinner. If _you_ want.”

\--and then kissing him like that, easing past his lips and gliding over every inch of his mouth with a skilled tongue while those amazing hands ran up his arms and shoulders and neck and sought out his face, holding Roy steady as he licked and sucked and gently nipped at him. Jean broke the kiss as quickly as he had initiated it, using the balls of his thumbs to wipe away the sheen of saliva that coated Roy's bottom lip, both of them eagerly swallowing the smoke and alcohol-infused result of one of the best, if briefest, kisses either of them had ever known.

“That was in case you were still trying to figure it all out,” Jean said quietly, slowly trailing his fingers along Roy's jaw as he drew them away and leaving him to stand there, trembling, his mind blank, eyes widened, and lips parted while he gasped for air.

The tall blond ambled over to the couch and took a seat without a care in the world, as if he did not, in fact, just retrieve his tongue from his commanding officer's mouth. 

“So what's for dinner?”


	2. Interlude

“How did you know? About me, I mean.”  
  
Roy spared a quick glance to his right at the man sitting beside him on the couch before looking down into the glass cradled firmly between his hands, still trying to make some sort of sense of it all. Six hours ago, if anyone would have told him that he would not only get mildly inebriated with Jean Havoc, but also make out with him, cook dinner for him, and now sit in the living room with him, anticipating the heretofore unthinkable joys of his body while one of Gracia's apple pies cooled in the kitchen, he would have called their sanity into question.  
  
Yet, there they were.  
  
“Well, to be honest, I wasn't exactly sure,” Jean admitted.  
  
He leaned back into the seat's cushions and stretched out his long legs. Then, as if he had been doing so for years as opposed to _never before in his life_ , Jean reached out and placed his left hand on Roy's thigh, just above the knee. Roy pulled his gaze away from the deep amber of his drink and regarded the man's hand as it squeezed him gently and just _how the hell_ was he supposed to make casual conversation like this?  
  
“It's not that you come across as gay, so don't think it's anything like that,” Jean continued in an effort to reassure Roy that his facade was still safe. “I guess you could call it wishful thinking on my part. And when you didn't send me packing back at the bar, I figured I'd go for it.”  
  
Roy turned to look at Jean, still all too aware of the hand that was nonchalantly resting against him. “Did it ever occur to you that perhaps I was just being nice?”  
  
Jean returned his stare with impish grin. “No.”  
  
Shaking his head in disbelief--something he would do quite a bit over the next day or two--Roy pried his own hand away from its grip on the glass and tentatively lowered it over Jean's, running his fingers along and between the other man's and hoping like hell he didn't look nearly as embarrassed as he felt. It was the strangest thing; Roy had never been so hesitant before. He almost felt like a damn schoolgirl, for goodness sake. Usually, it was nothing at all for him to seduce another man. Hell, nine times out of ten, he hardly even had to try. But this... this... reservation... it really _was_ downright embarrassing.  
  
But it was also... well... kind of nice. Because this wasn't just some random sex encounter. Well, no, it _was_ (wasn't it?) but the reason it was nice, too, was because this was not some stranger who just happened to pass muster well enough to get into his pants. This was someone he _knew_. Not nearly well enough, apparently, but still.  
  
This was Havoc.  
  
“I thought you liked women,” he said, trying to remain calm when Jean flipped his hand and long, strong fingers intertwined with his. “When you're not tanking with them, that is,” he added with what he prayed was convincing sarcasm. How long had it been since he had held another man's hand? Roy was hard-pressed to think of a time when he had ever done so at _all_ , particularly in such an uncharacteristically tender context.  
  
Jean smiled thoughtfully at their conjoined hands and began trailing his thumb along the inside of Roy's wrist. “I like... people,” he explained. “Even though you're only the second _man_ I've ever been attracted to, I don't think I care to limit my options.”  
  
Had he not been almost entirely distracted by the effect that an otherwise seemingly casual caress of the thumb was presently having on his crotch, Roy would have been able to fully appreciate the man's surprisingly progressive way of thinking. Although he himself was not opposed to fucking a woman if he absolutely _had_ to--hey, who knew what the State might ask him to do one day?--Roy had rarely ever thought of them in any other capacity than a cover story, a means of diverting attention from his true nature lest he lose his chance at becoming Führer.  
  
However, something _did_ break through the hypnotic barrier of their hand-holding, something he discovered he really wanted to know:  
  
“Who was the first?”  
  
The sound of a soft chuckle hit Roy's ears in lieu of a spoken response, which only served to further fuel his curiosity. “Was it someone at HQ?” he asked. The possibilities, while not endless, were certainly... interesting. And a few, downright disturbing.  
  
“No one you know. It was a long time ago,” Jean said. “And as far as the military goes...” His smile faded away and he tightened his grasp on Roy's hand. “... it's only you.”  
  
Roy gaped at the lieutenant as those words resonated in his mind. It was, however unintentionally, one of the most endearing things that he had ever heard. But before he could say that--or _anything_ for that matter--Jean was pulling him close and wrapping his arms around him and relieving him of his glass as well as a large percentage of his coherent thought. A beautifully intense shade of blue was the last thing Roy could distinctly recall before Jean leaned forward and _Jesus_ , no one had ever kissed him that way before, so deeply, so _completely_. Roy reached behind him and cupped the back of his head, moaning into Jean's mouth as his own was mercilessly teased by the slow, purposeful swipes of an extremely skilled tongue.  
  
In one swift, fluid motion, Jean pushed Roy onto his back and eased on top of him, sliding alongside his body until they were once again face to face. Roy parted his legs slightly and was rewarded when a warm, rock solid mass began grinding against him. Jean kissed him again and he eagerly returned it in full, clutching desperately at the man's back while thrusting upward, rubbing their erections together until he thought he might go out of his mind from the unbearable waves of pleasure coursing throughout his body as a result of the friction between them. By the time Jean began kissing his way down Roy's neck and lifting up his shirt to nip and suck at his pale skin, Roy was a trembling heap, despite his best efforts to still himself, overrun with anticipation over the thought of Jean doing what Roy strongly suspected he was about to do. He peered down at the haphazard nest of blond hair hovering just above his lower abdomen and felt his cock twitch hard, expelling wetness in its excitement.  
  
Sure enough, Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc was about to give him head.  
  
 _Holy fucking shit._  
  
*****  
  
Jean ran the palm of his hand over the protruding bulge in Roy's pants and smiled to himself as he heard the man gasp at the contact. All lust aside, and boy was there plenty of it, Roy was almost... _cute_ in the midst of his passion.  
  
He unzipped the pants and reached inside of them, clenching his teeth as his fingers happened upon a patch of moisture. Jean wrapped his hand around the outline of the man's cock and stroked it gingerly while licking at the damp material and swallowing the warm, somewhat salty, and unmistakably masculine essence of Roy. Jean then hooked his fingers into Roy's pants and underwear and Roy instinctively raised his hips so that he could pull them down, freeing one of his legs and draping it over Jean's shoulder. Jean settled between Roy's legs and stared at his cock in its full, breathtaking glory, and it was all he could do not to hump the sofa, so overcome was he with the urge to take him right then and there. After sparing Roy one last glance, noting the head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut while awaiting the inevitable, Jean took him into his mouth and began sucking him, hard and fast and without abandon, spurred by the sound of Roy's stunned cries as well as man's unrestrained writhing, seemingly torn between pulling away from _and_ burying himself to the hilt in Jean's mouth. Fingers curled through Jean's hair and held fast to him as the same skilled tongue that had kissed him within an inch of his sanity now wholly obliterated whatever stamina Roy may have thought he had.  
  
“Oh fuck... Havoc... I'm gonna come,” Roy whispered shakily before doing just that, bucking up one last time into the warmth and wetness of the mouth wrapped around him and letting out a choked grunt as he erupted against Jean's tongue. Jean swallowed the thick liquid as it shot into his mouth and only when Roy's cock finally stopped twitching did he let it fall from him, where it came to a rest against a thin and newly dampened brush of dark hair. He smiled gently as he watched the man raise a trembling hand and run it over his face, his chest still heaving from the force of his release. While his own pants were a bit of a mess by that point, not to mention the dull ache of need that had all but taken his groin hostage, Jean was still happy to simply observe Roy's afterglow, and he rested his chin against the other man's thigh, watching and waiting for him to come down from his body's high.  
  
After one last shuddering sigh, Roy pried open his eyes and stared blindly at the ceiling. “I'm not usually that... fast,” he insisted breathlessly. “It's just that it's been awhile...”  
  
“Don't worry about it,” Jean said with a gentle pat. “I wasn't timing you.”  
  
"Thanks." Roy smirked and let out a small moan of contentment. Reaching out to him, he ran his fingers through Jean's hair once again, this time with much more care, and Jean had to admit that it felt positively amazing.  
  
“Could you do me one favor, though?” he asked, nuzzling into Roy's touch.  
  
“What's that?”  
  
Jean turned toward the leg that was draped across his shoulder and kissed the inside of Roy's thigh. “Do you think you could call me by my first name?” He smiled against the smooth skin. “At least when your cock is in my mouth?”  
  
Old habits really did die hard. “I'll work on it,” Roy promised with a grin.  
  
“Good.” Jean carefully lowered Roy's leg and clumsily rolled off the sofa. “Now, I need a cigarette.”  
  
Roy eyes happened over Jean's crotch, where things were clearly in a state of distress. “You need a cigarette _right now_?”  
  
Jean nodded and leaned down, kissing him on the lips and silencing any further protest. “I'll be right back,” he said, turning away from Roy's gape of disbelief and quietly slipping out of the front door into the cool night, which did manage to provide him a small reprieve from the throbbing ache between his legs.  
  
He sat down on top door step and lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply. Even now, with the taste of Roy still on his lips, Jean could not have imagined that things would develop this way when he'd decided to take the plunge and approach Roy at the bar. And while the only thing he wanted right now more than his cigarette was Roy's body, he also wanted to bask in the anticipation, if only for a little while longer, before he went back inside and finally realized his dream.  
  
Jean finished smoking and carefully extinguished the cigarette beneath his foot before lighting another one. Tendrils of smoke surrounded him as he gazed up at the night sky. He took a moment to savor the beauty of it while pondering the one question for which he had yet to find an answer:  
  
What would happen between them afterward?  
  
Of course, while there was also the question of what Roy might want from _him_ in return, what did Jean want for himself out of all of this? Was he just looking for a one or two or ten night stand or did he want something else? Something... more?  
  
Even if he did, was such a thing even _possible_ with someone like Roy Mustang?  
  
Upon finishing the second cigarette, Jean shoved both butts into his pocket and stood up. He stepped back into the house, where he found Roy waiting for him, fully clothed, a predicament that could--and _would_ \--be remedied soon enough, without a doubt. The unanswered question continued to poke and prod at his conscience as the other man led him into the bedroom; hell with it--it would keep until they were finished.  
  
Jean knew that he wanted to fuck Roy. Yes, _God yes_ , damn near more than anything.  
  
But then what?  
  
Well, there was pie. He was actually quite excited about the pie.  
  
And after that?  
  
Following tonight, Jean honestly had no idea where any of this was going to go... but he had a feeling that he was _really_ about to enjoy getting there, come what may.


	3. Mutual Understanding

Although there were times when a cigarette rightfully followed certain time-honored traditions, namely a good meal and the most incredible sex ever had, Jean was convinced that indulging in a slice of Gracia's home-baked apple pie made a damn good argument in its own favor.

“It's just not fair that Hughes gets to eat like this every day,” he said before shoving another forkful into his mouth and chewing heartily.

“No, it's not,” Roy concurred.

Hearing the hint of humor in the other man's voice, Jean looked at Roy, who was lying on his side of the bed, his head tucked into the crook of his arm and watching him devour the pie as if he hadn't eaten in years, the sheet thankfully--and barely--concealing his remarkably naked form. Jean took in the sight of his... well, his _lover_ now, to be perfectly accurate, noting the black hair mussed from their writhing about, eyes bearing an amused gleam, and a smile that bore no pretense whatsoever, and he felt a stirring in his chest.

And in other places, too, of course.

“You're laughing at me,” he pointed out.

“No, I'm not,” Roy insisted. “Well... not _a lot_.”

He rolled over onto his back, stretched and yawned lazily. Jean found the move somewhat endearing in its own way, as well as, for reasons he could not decipher, decidedly feline. He polished off the slice of pie in two more bites and set the plate on the nightstand nearest him, then scooted down in the bed and turned toward Roy, propping himself up on one elbow.

“You can smoke in here if you want,” Roy said as long digits wove their way through his hair and gently massaged his scalp. He closed his eyes and focused on Jean's touch... something he had come to know rather well in the past few hours. “I don't mind.”

Jean shook his head although Roy could not have possibly seen him do so. Even if the offer really was solely out of the kindness of his heart and not in any way tied to some sense of obligation over what had just taken place between them, Jean was not about to take advantage. As it was, he subjected Roy's office to smoke; the last thing he wanted was to fill the man's house with it as well.

“I'm good. But thank you for offering.”

If only the moment could have lasted an age, Jean would not have minded at all. Roy was so hypnotic in this natural state of his, untainted by duty or regret, and, quite simply, stunning. 

“We need to talk about this,” Roy said suddenly, quietly, and rather seriously, while opening his eyes and peering at Jean.

_If only._

“Yeah.” Jean sighed and reluctantly retrieved his hand from the soft, fine strands of Roy's hair. “I suppose we do.”

*****

Roy inwardly mourned the removal of Jean's hand; it had felt pretty damn good. Then again, there wasn't much the man had done that _hadn't_ felt good over the past few hours. Regardless of the amount of time that had passed since he last allowed someone inside of him in such an intimate way, Roy didn't think that he had ever felt so blissfully sore and worn out from being fucked. _Well._

But before he could lose himself completely in his rapture, some conversation was in order.

“We probably should have discussed this beforehand,” he started, conveniently neglecting to add that he was quite glad they hadn't, lest mind-blowing sex might not have occurred.

“Probably,” Jean agreed. “Wouldn't have made for good foreplay though.”

Damn, was he a quick one. Roy chuckled in spite of himself, a merry, carefree sound that seemed foreign even to his own ears, especially given his tendency to cast aside more pleasant sentiments.

Jean inched toward him and slung a leg over his. “I hear what you're saying, though,” he admitted, mindlessly running his foot along the other man's shin. “I guess I just didn't want to say or do anything that would have ruined the moment. Call me selfish.”

“Selfish,” Roy quipped. He smiled as Jean laughed, relieved that their line of thinking had been one in the same, and he eased a leg over Jean's, trapping it between both of his. “But seriously...”

“... what happens now?”

Even without looking, Roy could feel Jean's still amused but now questioning gaze upon him. “Yes,” he said, turning his head to meet the intense stare head-on. “What _was_ this for you, Hav--Jean? A one-time thing or what?”

“No,” Jean replied with an emphatic shake of the head. “I didn't approach you at the bar just because I wanted to get laid. I mean, I'm not going to lie to you, Roy. I _wanted_ to sleep with you, only an idiot wouldn't. But that's not all I'm looking for here.”

Roy scolded himself for barely managing to hold back a self-satisfied preen over the compliment; apparently Jean knew just the right way to stroke an ego, too. Such vanities were nice to imagine oneself, as he frequently did, but to hear it spoken so earnestly from another was just as pleasant. But there would be time for wallowing in hubris later; there was an issue that still needed tending, one that had taken a most interesting turn, to say the least.

“Are you saying that you want... a relationship?”

*****

A relationship?

Jean's mind could barely wrap around the awesome possibility of such a thing with the magnificent creature lying beside him. Not that he wanted to put the cart before the horse, but it didn't sound as if Roy was all that opposed to the idea, either.

“I'm saying...” Jean moved in closer and pressed against him, much to the growing... _distraction_... of both. “Let's see where it goes.” He trailed his hand down Roy's chest and brought it to rest against his abdomen, absolutely delighting in the way the man flinched and tensed beneath his fingers.

Roy Mustang was ticklish. How fucking cute.

“This wouldn't change things out there,” he continued, absentmindedly running his fingers along the smoothness of Roy's alabaster skin. “As far as the rest of the world is concerned, I'll still be nothing more than your loyal, if mildly _idiotic_ subordinate,” he added with mock self-deprecation.

Jean spotted the brief creasing of the brow and matched it with one of his own, worried that he may have been asking for too much. He couldn't blame him, really. What they were considering was full of jeopardy, without a doubt, but in the end, it was Roy who stood to lose the most. Maybe he had gotten ahead of himself after all.

“Would that really be alright with you?”  
  
Or maybe not.

“Yeah,” Jean promised him. “Would that really be alright with _you_?”

He tried not to appear too anxious as he waited for Roy's response. Again, Jean fully realized that this was a lot to venture, for Roy much more than himself. But the truth of the matter, which he was fully prepared to argue, was that they were already past the point of turning back. Even if Roy didn't care to consent to anything beyond this one night, they would still have to indulge in the façade of mere co-workers, pretending that nothing untoward had happened between them. If they were going to have to play the game, why not see just how far they could take it?

“It's fine.” Roy covered Jean's hand with his own and offered him the patented smirk that he knew very well. “Besides, it's a little too late to take it all back anyway.”

Jean nodded, pleased that their thoughts were of the same vein. Wouldn't it be funny, he mused, if that had been their subconscious goal from the very beginning, both of them conveniently avoiding the subject of consequence until it was too late for any preventative measures?

He leaned forward and gently kissed Roy's shoulder, happier than he could possibly begin to understand, let alone articulate by any other means than letting his lips dance along the smooth and delicate skin. And it had nothing at all to do with any failed attempts at past relationships, the endless parade of women--and the one man--with whom he had never been fully inspired to shed his outer wall as much as he had already done in such a short amount of time with this man.  
  
It was _because_ it was this man.

He had already sworn his career to Roy Mustang, without hesitation.

What would he lose to him next?

An excellent question, but irrelevant in the wake of deceptively strong arms, pulling him on top of a body that was, once again, more than ready to receive him.

*****

If they kept this up, neither man would get any rest. Especially Jean, who still had the unenviable task of driving home so late at night. Of course the thought of sharing the bed with him for the night's duration sounded divine, but even now, at this most delicate moment, Roy managed to maintain a hint of practicality--which was a good thing if this undertaking of theirs had any chance of succeeding.

He hissed sharply as Jean's cock slid against his, and he wrapped his legs around the man hovering above him to sustain the contact, ignoring the protesting ache of his body for an ache of a different kind, his mind reeling in renewed anticipation of being taken by Jean yet again. Rarely, if ever, did Roy even want, let alone actively _pursue_ such a thing; oh, he did want to fuck Jean as well, make no mistake, but the sensation of Jean breaching him, filling him, sliding in and out of him and coming deep inside of him, those things rendered moot the arrogant need to dominate a lover for the sake of his ego.

Roy could feel the tip of Jean's cock slowly easing its way in, aided by the considerable amount of slickness still to be found down there, where the other man had proven to be a little overzealous during the first application of lubricant. He closed his eyes and arched his back and waist, yielding himself to Jean's advances. There was a sharp burst of pain--there always would be, he supposed--followed quickly by the same mind-numbing sensation of fullness that had overtaken him before. Twice.

Jean was fucking him again. _Well._

The two men continued in the timeless rhythm, the world around them and everything in it little more than a vague concept. Nothing else mattered, nothing else even _existed_ save for the two of them, joined together and clinging to each other one last time. Roy cried out through clenched teeth as Jean touched upon the spot deep within him that drove him to ruin, and he erupted against their abdomens, helplessly digging his nails into his lover's back while he found himself catapulted over the edge of coherence. If things progressed at this rate, Roy saw no other alternative:  
  
This man would be his undoing.

He had already given his body to Jean Havoc, without hesitation.

What would he lose to him next?

*****

“Good morning,” Riza Hawkeye announced in her no-nonsense way as she entered Roy's office with Black Hayate in tow.

While Kain Fuery began doting on the dog, having been his temporary one-time owner, Heymans Breda quickly secured a spot in the corner of the room, giving himself much distance from the adorably 'ferocious beast' whose worst atrocity to date was relieving himself in a corner of the room. The same corner currently occupied by Breda, if memory served.

“Colonel,” Riza said, approaching Roy's desk and looking down at him with a suspicious lift of the brow.

“Lieutenant Hawkeye,” Roy murmured as he pretended to look over his agenda for the day, damned if he was about to give the woman any cause for her subtle griping. No, not today.

She moved away, seemingly content for now; the day was early and he'd hardly had enough time to warrant her wrath just yet. While everyone filled themselves with fresh coffee and pastries--a rare treat made by Fuery--Roy glanced at the clock and frowned slightly. Jean was a lot of things--as he was discovering--but late wasn't usually one of them--

“Sorry I'm late!” yelled the man himself as he bolted into the office, his jacket unfastened (a distinction Roy only allotted for Breda since it was almost impossible for him to wear the damn thing as intended) and his hair even more haphazard than usual. Although some small censure was in order, Roy had to admit that it did his pride a world of wonder to know he was the culprit behind Jean's... no, Havoc's tardiness.

Havoc, Havoc, Havoc. He would have to remember that.

“What's the matter, Havoc?” he asked, setting his gaze to condescending. “Hot date last night?”

A low round of chortling filled the room. Jean ran a hand through the jungle on his head and lit the cigarette that was dangling from the corner of his mouth.

“Yes, sir,” he said. “Kept me up most of the night, that one did.”

In an instant, the chortling turned into howls of laughter. Even Hawkeye, as emotionless as she seemed to be, smiled and shook her head at Havoc's “tall tale.”

“Yeah, right, Havoc,” Breda said amid belly-trembling guffaws. “Just admit you forgot to set your alarm.”

“Now, now, Breda,” Roy started, standing up and rounding his desk. “Havoc could actually be telling the truth, you know.”

As he suspected it would, his statement was met with even more laughter. Roy couldn't speak for Jean, but he, for one, had never been so grateful that the man had such a shitty reputation among the ladies. He risked a brief glance at his lover, needing to know, once again and for all, if this was alright with him...

… and in that glance, he saw that it was.

“Okay then,” he said without inflection, mindful to keep his newfound optimism tucked away for later observance. Roy shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned back against his desk, looking upon the faces of his most trusted. “Now that we're all here, let's begin.”


	4. Seed of Doubt

Three weeks into their new arrangement… rather, _relationship_ … and Jean had already lost count of the exact number of times in which he had been treated to the spectacular view he was once again witnessing: the crown of Roy’s head as his face was burrowed between widespread legs and his mouth, doing things to him, amazing things, things that just didn’t seem humanly possible. The lieutenant released his death grip from the blanket beneath him and weaved his fingers throughout soft black hair while bucking gently past pursed lips into the heavenly warmth of Roy’s mouth, his breathing harsh and ragged, his body a storm of desire and his mind a blur. For his own part, Roy thrust shamelessly against the bed to ease the burning itch of his own need, his hips undulating in a wickedly hypnotic fashion that only heightened the beautiful spectacle unfolding before Jean’s eyes.  
  
Jean tightened his hold on the man’s locks as a blessedly skilled tongue massaged the underside of his shaft, barely, _just_ barely, restraining the urge to plunge into his mouth and fuck it raw. Never in his life had anyone ever reduced him to a whimpering, sputtering pile of nothing the way Roy did; it was almost too good to be true… as was the moistened finger that now slipped below his balls into territory that, until recently, no one besides himself had ever dared to tread.  
  
 _“Ah fuck!!!”_ Jean cried out as the tip of a slender digit penetrated him slowly, carefully, with cruel, deliberate teasing. His toes dug into the bed as Roy pushed deeper, then deeper still until he was all the way in, and what little control Jean had quickly unraveled under the sweet sensation of being violated in such an intimate way. He closed his eyes and gave himself up to his rapture, savoring the bliss of being sucked and finger-fucked within a hair’s breadth of sanity. But when Roy curled his finger and touched upon a spot that all but sent Jean soaring out of skin, there was no coming back, no holding back, it was too much, too quickly, and too late.  
  
“I’m gonna come… _ohhh, God, I’m gonna come..._ ”  
  
Jean grasped Roy’s hair and drove his cock hard into the other man’s mouth, vaguely aware of the sound of strangled grunting as he exploded into its depths, and he roared up at the ceiling as his orgasm seized him in its unrelenting grip before reducing him to a trembling heap while Roy swallowed around him, scarcely missing a drop of his body’s release. Jean went limp against the bed, gloriously spent, and he moaned his regret when he felt cool air against his softening member where such delightful warmth had just been. Roy gingerly removed his finger, severing their connection, and he placed a tender, chaste kiss along Jean’s well-muscled thigh before resting his head, letting out a long, shuddering sigh of contentment that matched his partner’s.  
  
Lacking the strength to pull the other man into his arms, Jean opted instead to continue stroking the head of hair beneath his fingertips, then swept it out of his way to trail along the fine, if somewhat sweat-covered brow underneath. _These_ were the moments that he had come to treasure most, lying wasted with Roy, not speaking, but merely touching, caressing, rubbing and nuzzling as their bodies re-acclimated themselves to normality. He opened his eyes when he felt the tickling curve of a smile against his leg. Raising his head, Jean found himself staring into the flushed yet amused face of his partner.  
  
“What is it?” he croaked, barely recognizing his own voice.  
  
Roy’s smirk was wide and coy. “I hope you have another blanket.”  
  
Jean chuckled breathlessly and pulled himself up on his elbows with a tired grunt. “Yeah.” He had, as a matter of fact, just retrieved his other blanket from the cleaners, one which had suffered the same misfortune as its present counterpart. While Jean would never dream of making an issue over the inconvenience to his poor bedding, not when being granted a front row seat to Roy, fucking his fist ( _or_ his bed) to completion while orally tending to him, it did make for more errands to run after the fact. And so, as infinitely flattering as it was to know that going down on him caused Roy to blow his own load, it probably wouldn’t hurt to plan ahead for such things moving forward.  
  
With an exhausted grunt of his own, Roy crawled up the length of the bed and plopped down beside Jean, back to chest, holding firm to the arms that wrapped around his stomach and lowering his head to grant access to the face that burrowed greedily into the crook of his neck. And there the two men remained, swathed in the scent and taste and feel of one another and lamenting the inevitable passage of time... while smartly avoiding the very large wet splotch at the foot of the bed. This would make the fourth night that they indulged at Jean’s place as opposed to Roy’s, at the insistence of the latter; it was a ritual Jean was more than willing to undertake on a more permanent basis.  
  
The minutes stretched out, each of them a gift more precious than the first. Finally, regrettably, Jean felt a distinct sinking in his heart when he heard Roy take a breath to speak the words he hated hearing most:  
  
“I have to go.”

*****

There was a distinct sinking in Roy’s heart upon uttering the words he hated saying most, and he was glad that he was not looking directly at Jean while he spoke. The disappointment in his voice was evident and, sadly, becoming all too much a part of their nightly routine.

“Yeah,” Jean muttered in agreement, releasing him with unmistakable reluctance.

Only then did Roy risk a glance at his face, simple and handsome as it was, noting the blue eyes that contemplated the ceiling as if pondering some great and secret thing. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then thought better of it, opting instead to roll out of the bed, grab his clothes, and wander into the bathroom to clean up--a proper shower would have to wait. Time was hardly on his side right now, not that he was complaining. Not after all of _that_.

He got dressed, washed his hands, and helped himself to a quick swig of mouthwash, which didn’t exactly obliterate the taste of his lover as opposed to making it all just a little more minty. When he was finished, he stepped out of the bathroom and found Jean leaning back against the headboard and lighting a cigarette, an ashtray beside him on the bed. “Don’t stay up too late,” he warned with a faint smirk. “I don’t want to have to rip you a new one in front of everyone for being late.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Jean’s smile was wry and a bit self-deprecating, and once again, Roy was convinced that the man had not the first clue in the world just how unbelievably gorgeous he really was. It was hard not to feel a secret, selfish sort of pride at the thought that Jean belonged to _him_.

He walked over to the bed and threaded his fingers through the nest of disheveled hair atop the other man’s head. Roy bent over and kissed him softly, his nose filling with the smell of smoke as well as a faint whiff of their coupling. “Goodnight,” he whispered, his eyes still shut, all too aware of the stare boring into him and the heat between them, and knowing damn well that if Jean had chosen that moment to drag him back into the bed, he would not have resisted in the least.

Roy slowly opened his eyes and, judging from the knowing smile that greeted him, he knew that he wasn’t the only one aware of his faltering resolve.

“Be careful driving home,” Jean said. He turned his head and returned the cigarette to his lips, effectively putting a halt to any further opportunities for seduction.

Nodding in silent agreement--but admittedly somewhat disappointed--Roy pulled himself upright, giving Jean’s hair a playful tug in the process. He checked his pants pocket to make sure his keys were still there, which they were--an amazing feat, really, considering the frenzy that was their earlier disrobing--and walked out of the bedroom, leaving Jean one last, appreciative view of his backside.

He slipped through the dark living room and out into the night, hesitant to part ways but already anticipating the new day… and blissfully unaware of the maelstrom that would soon erupt from the casual utterance of a most misguided observation.

*****

Amidst the din of the mess hall, Jean stared down at his tray, suspiciously regarding the indecipherable glob of what just legally passed for food, his stomach giving him clear indication that it did not care to partake of any of it. In all honesty, the stuff looked like it was far better suited for Black Hayate’s bowl. No, scratch that. The stuff Black Hayate ate looked much better than this runny lump of… whatever it was.

“It tastes better than it looks,” Breda reassured him after noticing his hesitation.

Jean raised a brow in doubt. Breda would probably eat _anything_ if it was drowning in gravy.

“It’s really not that bad, Havoc,” Fuery added.  His voice was almost apologetic, as if he was somehow directly responsible for the horror currently located on Jean’s tray.

“No, it’s not,” Falman concurred, breaking apart a roll with more effort than it should have taken. “Although it would be nice to dine like the other half does every now and then. I bet Mustang eats like a king.”

The other half, Jean realized, meaning alchemists and higher ranking officers, like the man he was presently bedding. Jean had never really given it much thought before, the fine line that separated the factions, right down to their selection of meals, but it was there, wasn’t it?  Men like Roy were revered while they were little more than glorified grunts. But it was what it was--certainly the same held true for each country’s military. Even so, Jean was now curious as to his lover’s culinary options; the man always took his meals in his office so Jean had never had the opportunity to—

“I highly doubt Mustang does much _eating_ during lunchtime,” Breda muttered.

“What?”

Jean had heard the statement loud and clear of course.

“Mustang and Lieutenant Hawkeye,” Falman clarified. “I think it’s pretty obvious, don’t you?”

“ _What’s_ pretty obvious?”

“That they’re… ” A mild blush rose on Fuery’s face. “ _You know_ …”

“… That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” Jean said, lighting a cigarette he had no recollection at all of putting in his mouth. “There’s no way those two are… no. No way.”

Falman gave up the fight and tossed both halves of his uneaten roll onto his tray. “What makes you so sure they’re not?” he asked.

_Because my dick was in his mouth last night, asshole,_ Jean thought, dragging hard and deep on his cigarette. It was only by an overwhelming act of will that he was able to keep his expression in check in light of his growing agitation. Still, even if he couldn’t exactly set the record straight, he would be damned if he would let these idiots go on thinking something so unbelievably ludicrous if he could help it.

“What makes you so sure they _are_?” he countered.

“Come on, Havoc,” Breda said, helping himself to half of Falman’s discarded roll. “Just think about it.”

And that was the problem. Jean didn’t _want_ to think about it. The very idea was insane. Roy and Hawkeye? _Hell_ no. Sure, the woman clung to him like a magnet and there was a time, back in the day, when he had once jokingly calculated the probability of seeing her run face-first into Roy’s backside on account of her never-ending hovering. But now it didn’t seem nearly as funny. True, underneath the playboy façade Roy was gayer than Armstrong’s sparkles (… okay, maybe not _that_ gay) but still, to imply that he spent mealtimes boning Hawkeye over the desk in his office was downright maddening.

The speculation also hammered home what would prove to be one of the most frustrating aspects of his new and secret relationship: the fact that he was helpless to defend it. But Jean knew that this was to be expected. Roy had fashioned for himself quite the player’s reputation, after all; as far as anyone else knew, he was a stark raving man-whore who hit on anyone with tits and two legs... and according to legend, the legs were optional. Jean had been so caught up in his own budding happiness that it honestly did not occur to him until that moment that he would have to endure the continued swirl of rumors surrounding Roy and he found himself completely taken aback by the wave of fierce possessiveness that swept through him.

Damn it all, Roy belonged to _him_.  That he wasn’t able to say as much didn’t make it any less real… but _fuck_ did it ever piss him off that he couldn’t.

“I gotta go.”

Jean extinguished his cigarette in the middle of some sort of semi-congealed fruit… stuff. Without waiting for a response--and ignoring the slack-jawed gaping of his comrades in the process--he got up from the table and left. While he contemplated returning to the office, he decided that his present state of mind did not make that the wisest idea and so instead he opted to deal with his frustration in the firing range. If nothing else, maybe his mood would help to improve his aim, as near flawless as it already was…

*****

“Someone’s jealous,” Breda finally muttered after Jean had taken his leave.

He was right, of course. Just not in the way that he assumed.

“I've always suspected that Havoc was into her,” Fuery mused. “Now I know.”

“It’s too bad,” Falman said. “He's a great guy, but he doesn’t stand a chance against Mustang.”

The trio murmured in agreement. It was hard not to feel for their friend, who seemed to have the worst luck ever when it came to the opposite sex.

And it was then that Breda proposed something that would unfortunately set into motion what would, in hindsight, be referred to by all parties involved as a most egregious clusterfuck:

“We should set him up with someone. You know, help to get his mind off the Lieutenant.”

Falman and Fuery glanced at one another and nodded their approval.

As far as they were concerned, it was a brilliant idea. 


	5. Ineligible Bachelor

As the day drew to a close, Jean found himself almost wishing that there had been some sort of emergency or crisis, something, _anything_ to distract him from the maddening thought that apparently everyone and their mother believed Roy and Hawkeye to be an item.  He knew that it shouldn’t matter because it wasn’t true, but it vexed him all the same, in a way that the man’s reputation for random flings did not.  But because there _hadn’t_ been some sort of emergency or crisis, there was nothing to draw his attention elsewhere, and between being painfully aware of what the others were thinking as the pair worked together and his own childish rumination on the subject, the past few hours had been agony.  Even the act of engaging in target practice, one of his favorite workplace distractions, did little to ease his mind.  Jean found that he could only empty so many clips before the agitation returned with a vengeance and ruined his usually damn near perfect aim.

Oh well.  Ten more minutes and the day was done.  Then he could get the hell out of there, go home, and--

“Hey, Havoc.”

“Yeah?” Jean looked up and saw Breda smiling at him, which was not a big deal in and of itself… but the fact that Falman and Fuery were smiling right along with him was cause for instant suspicion.

“Do you have any plans for tonight?”

Actually, he didn’t.  Tonight was one of his designated “nights off” from Roy since the man had insisted--rather inaccurately, Jean thought--that they couldn’t very well fuck every single day of the week.  As a result, he intended to do what he normally did when settling in for a night alone, which was a fat lot of nothing.

“Not really,” he said, lighting a cigarette.  “Why?”

Jean assumed that they were going to invite him out for drinks after work, something he had not done with the trio in quite some time.  But he assumed wrong.

“We… sort of… set you up on a blind date.”

_Very_ wrong.

_“What?”_

Jean gazed at Breda, Falman, and Fuery through a haze of smoke.

Holy shit, they were serious.

“She’s a very nice girl,” Falman said.

“Very pretty, very sweet,” Fuery added.

“So what do you say?” Breda asked.

What _did_ he say?  Jean could think of plenty to say right now, most of it unfit for decent company.  What the fuck were these three fools thinking?  Well, no… he knew exactly what they were thinking.  Like Roy, Jean had a reputation with the opposite sex.  _Unlike_ Roy, his was nowhere near as promising.  Objectively, he understood their motivation since, by Jean’s own repeated admission, he was a failure where women were concerned.  And hell, a month ago, he might have even appreciated the gesture.

But things were different now.

“Guys,” he began, shaking his head.  “That’s really nice of you and all, but… I… I can’t-”

“He can’t wait to meet her.”

Everyone turned to look at Roy except for Riza, who seemed about as interested in the conversation as she did about most of the personal conversations that took place in the office.  Which was not at all.

“You just said that you weren’t doing anything else tonight, right?” Roy continued, meeting Jean’s stunned expression with a cool and even gaze.  “So what logical reason would you possibly have for saying no?”

On the surface, it was an easy enough question.  However, Jean knew damn well what Roy was getting at.   It would look odd if he turned down their offer, drawing exactly the sort of attention that he did not want to draw.  Not that they would immediately be able to conclude that he was sleeping with Roy should he deny the date, but it would definitely raise a few brows, and that was bad enough.

Even so, Jean found that he was mildly perturbed.  Sure, he hadn’t expected Roy to scream “No, he’s mine!” at the top of his lungs at the suggestion.  But that he would actively encourage such a thing…

“Where and when?” he asked Breda with a defeated sigh.  He then snubbed out his cigarette and immediately lit another one; Jean had the feeling he would go through many more before the night was over.

Breda scribbled down the information and handed it to Jean, who had a hell of a time trying to decipher the man’s chicken scratch.  Three hours from now, at a place that wasn’t exactly known for being easy on the wallet.  Great.

“How am I going to know who she is?”

Breda and Falman and Fuery exchanged amused glances.  That couldn’t possibly be a good thing.

“Oh, you’ll know,” Fuery promised him.

And on that note, the group dispersed for the day.  Jean stopped by the men’s room to take a pre-commute piss, stewing over the unpleasantness to come.

The only bright spot to be found in any of this impending… clusterfuck, for lack of a better word, was that his track record dictated that this would only be a one-time thing.  For whatever reason, not that it even mattered to him anymore, Jean never seemed to hold the same kind of appeal that someone like Roy did.  And if the female in question was someone in the military--which he could only assume from Fuery’s statement--then the chances were highly likely that Roy was more her type anyway. Roy was _always_ their type.

He finished and washed his hands, and lit himself one more cigarette for the road.  Jean glanced at his reflection while he smoked, not out of any real want but because there weren’t really any other desirable viewing options in a bathroom.  He didn’t think that he was a terrible looking fellow although sometimes it seemed that the unruly blond mess on top of his head begged to differ.  And while he knew full well that he often came across as the bumbling type, he wasn’t _truly_ an idiot.  So why hadn’t he been able to land and keep a girlfriend over the years?  It certainly wasn’t for lack of trying.  Maybe that was just it, that he had tried too hard.  Maybe he hadn’t tried enough.  Jean honestly did not know.  But again, it didn’t matter. He had Roy.  And that more than made up for all of his previous failures.

Speak of the devil…

“Shouldn’t you be going home and getting ready for your date?”

Roy walked past him and into a stall.  Jean waited until he was done before answering.

“I suppose I should.”

Their eyes met in the mirror.  This time, Roy’s gaze was considerably softer.

“What was I supposed to do?” he asked.  “Scream ‘No, he’s mine’ or something to that effect?”

Jean couldn’t help but smile a bit at that.  It was downright uncanny just how often their thoughts were so much alike.

“I know, I know,” he conceded as he tapped ash into the sink and rinsed it away.

Roy dried his hands and leaned against the sink.  “They were just trying to be helpful in their own spectacularly dumbass way.”

Jean exhaled a long stream of smoke and nodded reluctantly in agreement.

“So go,” Roy said.  “Have a good time and eat ridiculously overpriced food.  And who knows… you might even like her.”

Before Jean could even try to understand the root of such an unexpected and downright ludicrous accusation, let alone respond, a group of officers came barging into the bathroom to do their business.  Roy took that as his cue and left with a curt “See you tomorrow.” 

What the hell was _that?_

*****

After twenty minutes, Jean was beginning to wonder if this mystery woman had changed her mind.  While he once would have been irritated--though sadly not surprised--if it turned out that she had stood him up, tonight he was almost praying that such was the case.

“Jean?”

It wasn’t.

Jean turned towards the sound of the voice... and his mouth fell open in shock.

“… Sheska?”

The young woman slowly made her way towards the table, clearly unaccustomed to the insanely high heels that adorned her feet.  She was dressed in a vibrant and wickedly form-fitting red dress, thus revealing the figure that her military-issued uniform concealed a little too well, apparently.  While she was still wearing glasses, her eyelids beneath were decorated with a hint of color, just enough to bring out her eyes.

She looked absolutely gorgeous.

“Hello,” she said, taking a seat across from him.  “I’m so sorry I’m late.  I was having some issues.”

“Car issues?”

“ _Walking_ issues.”

Jean didn’t mean to laugh, but since Sheska appeared to find it equally as amusing, he didn’t feel nearly as bad about it.

So, Sheska, huh?  Jean had to admit that she was the last person that he had suspected.  On one hand, it was good that this date, forced as it was, was with someone he got along with.  That way, in as much as his mind would allow him to believe, it would be no different than merely hanging out with the boys.  On the other hand…

_… you might even like her._

Did Roy actually think that such a thing was possible?  And if so--

“Have you ever eaten here before?”

“Um, twice,” Jean said, pushing Roy’s words as far to the back of his mind as he could.  While he was already tasked with enduring this date, there was no reason to be rude and inattentive.

They made small talk until a server came to take their order.  Over their respective meals they discussed the pros and cons of military life as well as speculating what occupation they might have chosen if not for their duty to the State.  Sheska longed to own a bookstore while Jean had little preference in the matter as long as he could smoke and play with guns.  After dinner (Sheska graciously offered to split the ticket, an offer that Jean vehemently denied) he walked her to her car, lending her his arm for some much needed ambulatory support.

“I had a really nice time tonight, Jean,” she said, letting go of him.

“I did too.”  And he meant it sincerely.  There were definitely worse ways to kill an evening.

But now, unfortunately, came the difficult part.

“Look, Sheska--”

“It’s okay,” the woman said a little too quickly.  “I didn’t think… I mean… I didn’t expect anything more than this.”

Jean would have believed her if the look on her face did not scream otherwise.

“It’s not you.” He cringed inwardly at the line he had heard many times himself in the past.  But unlike the countless women who had said that to him, he truly meant it.  “It’s just that I’m actually… sort of… seeing someone right now.”

Sheska’s eyes were wide with surprise behind her glasses.  “You have a girlfriend?  Then why did you agree to see me?”

“We’re not exclusive just yet,” Jean said, sidestepping the fact that his girlfriend was not a _girl_ at all.  “And Breda and the others, they had no idea.  I haven’t told anyone else about it because I don’t want to jinx it.  You’re actually the _only_ other person who knows about it now except for me and… her.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Sheska was awed at having been entrusted with such knowledge.

“Well, I definitely won’t say anything then,” she promised.  “But what if the guys try and set you up again?”

“I haven’t quite figured that out yet.”

“You could always tell them that you’re into men.”

Jean almost inhaled the cigarette that he had just stuck between his lips.

“Just kidding.” Sheska giggled cheerfully, with no idea that she had almost given Jean a heart attack. She rifled through her purse until she found her keys and then gave him a parting kiss on the cheek. “Goodnight, Jean.”

Jean opened her car door and stepped aside so that she could get in.  “Goodnight, Sheska.”

After she was gone, he lit his cigarette and sucked down damn near half of it in one go.

*****

Thirty minutes later, he kicked off his shoes and collapsed onto the couch.  He wanted a drink, badly, but at the moment, he did not feel like moving a single inch.

They would grill him to hell and back about tonight, Breda, Falman, and Fuery.  And while Jean would have nothing but glowing things to say about Sheska, he was going to have to field the even more troubling query of when he planned on seeing her again.  If, no, _when_ he told them that he wasn’t going to ask her out for a second date, they were going to demand to know why.  And if he told them that it was because he was seeing someone else, they were going to demand to know who that someone else was.

In other words, he was fucked, totally and utterly.         

Jean would have been content to sit there a little longer if not for the knocking at the door.  He pulled himself up with a grunt and, after tripping over his own damn shoes and cursing himself for doing so, trudged over to the door, pulling it open.

“Hello,” Roy said.

Jean’s surprise was evident. “Hey.” 

“I just thought I’d stop by to see how your date went.”  Brooding eyes passed over his face then narrowed as they happened upon his cheek.  “Judging by the lipstick, I assume it went well.”

“Lipstick?”

Jean ran his hand over the side of his face that had drawn Roy’s attention.  Sure enough, when he looked at his fingers, he saw a smear of red.

“Oh.  This was from Sheska.”

“They set you up with Sheska?”  Roy’s expression was incredulous.  “ _Sheska_ Sheska?”

“Yeah,” Jean confirmed as he wiped his hand on his pants.  “You should have seen her, Roy.  She looked really good.”

“… That’s nice.”

“Wait a minute.”  Jean pointed to his face.   “It’s not what you think.  She just kissed me goodbye.  _After_ I told her that I couldn’t see her again because I was already seeing someone else.  She thinks I have a girlfriend.” He smiled thoughtfully at his partner, who was looking everywhere except at him. “Roy?  You weren’t… _worried_ … were you?”

Roy finally met his stare, frowning. “Of course not.  Now if you’re done asking stupid questions, I’m going home.”

He stepped away from the door, and Jean, without thinking, grabbed him by the arm and pulled him inside.

“Not yet,” he insisted, pushing Roy against the door.

Roy did not resist, though he did have one request.  “Well at least wipe that shit-eating smirk off your face.”

Jean gathered him into his arms, bringing his chin to rest on top of Roy’s head so that the other man would not have to see the offending shit-eating smirk that refused to go away.

“I can’t help it,” he said.  “I can’t believe you thought for one second that I would ever be interested in anyone else.  It’s so… _cute_.”

“Havoc,” Roy warned, his voice muffled against Jean’s neck.

“I’m sorry.”

Jean had gotten so worked up over everyone else’s vastly inaccurate perception of Roy’s relationship with Riza that he hadn’t even stopped to consider that Roy had a _legitimate_ reason to be concerned with Jean’s interactions with women.  Keeping up appearances was easy for Roy because he would never be sexually attracted to the scores of women who threw themselves at him.  But because Jean was not explicitly gay, there was, seemingly, always a chance that he might be swayed.

He felt like a fool.  A happy fool, but a fool nevertheless.

There was still the very real issue of tomorrow to contend with.  Jean would need a game plan before he stepped into the office and found himself bombarded with a thousand and one questions.  But there was a far more urgent matter that had to be addressed tonight, one that had priority over everything else.

“Will you stay for awhile?”

He paused, waiting.

Eventually, Roy pulled him into a long, lingering kiss.

That was all the answer Jean needed.


	6. Unexpected Confession

Jean vaguely wondered why he had bothered changing the sheets at all since they were very likely going to end up somewhere on the floor at the rate he and Roy were going.  
  
Then Roy reached between his legs and began to stroke and all of his concerns about detached bedding vanished in an instant.  
  
He gasped and shuddered as Roy’s hand ran along every single inch of his cock, from the base to the tip, stopping just long enough to run a teasing thumb over the slit before moving back down again in a slow and deliberate manipulation. Impatient with desire, Jean reached up and pulled Roy down into a desperate kiss, moaning into his mouth as he thrust into his hand.  Roy responded by forcefully bearing down against him, eagerly sliding his erection along a well-toned thigh, hot and hard and wet against Jean’s skin.  Aside from being extremely turned on, Jean was also pleasantly taken aback by this show of aggressiveness; Roy was hardly passive in bed, but his present actions displayed a physical dominance that excited him beyond measure.  He happily yielded to his lover’s advances, curious and excited to see where it would lead.  
  
And he soon got his answer when Roy let go of him and fumbled a small bottle of lube from the nightstand drawer.  
  
They locked eyes and silent understanding passed between them.  There was no question on Roy’s part, no beseeching gaze, no request for permission.  It was a simple, undeniable demand.  On some level, Jean knew that this was about his blind date with Sheska earlier that night, that Roy was staking his claim in his own unspoken way.  And that was perfectly fine as far as he was concerned. His body was Roy’s to do with whatever he pleased, whenever he wanted.  
  
They kissed again, their bodies shifting and grinding together.  Roy worked his way downward, licking and sucking a trail down to his waist and evilly avoiding his cock before rising up on his knees between Jean’s legs.  He popped open the bottle cap and went to work, and Jean closed his eyes and clutched the sheets beneath him as lube-slick digits carefully worked him open one by one.  He hissed and arched his back when Roy touched upon his prostate, bucking his hips for more of the same.  Jean knew that he must have looked a sight, sprawled across the bed with his legs spread wide, moaning wantonly as he fucked himself on Roy’s fingers, but he was far past the point of caring.  
  
“Roy,” he whispered raggedly.  “I don’t mean to rush you or anything, but _please hurry up_.”  
  
The sound of laughter hit Jean’s ears.  He opened his eyes and saw his lover staring at him with lust and amusement.  
  
“Jean, this is your first time,” Roy explained, his fingers still exploring.  “I just want to make sure that you’re ready.”  
  
“Trust me.  _I’m ready_.”  
  
In fact, Jean had never felt so ready for anything in his entire life.  
  
Roy withdrew his fingers and moved into position, his cock gliding along the slickness between Jean’s cheeks and driving him just short of insane.  Jean clenched his teeth as Roy began to push into him with small, barely controlled thrusts, stretching him, filling him until he was finally all the way in.  He would have been lying to say that it didn’t hurt but even that paled in comparison to the bigger picture: Roy Mustang was inside of him.  
  
For almost a full minute, neither man moved.  Roy hovered over Jean, bracing himself on trembling arms, his face a mask of intense concentration.  Jean reached up and wiped the sweat from Roy’s brow, then gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile.  
  
“You don’t have to wait.  I said I’m ready.”  
  
“Yeah, well I’m _not_.”  
  
It was wickedly tantalizing for Jean, knowing the effect he was having on Roy.  He knew all too well himself the unbelievable bliss of being buried deep within so much tightness and warmth.  
  
When Roy finally felt capable of moving without coming, he slowly pulled out of Jean and pushed back in, earning a groan from them both.  Encouraged by the result, he did it again, and then again, building up the pace until he found a rhythm that suited them both.  Jean locked his arms and legs around Roy and held him close, nails and heels digging in, grunting and shivering as a hard, thick length burrowed into him repeatedly.  
  
Their lips collided, and Jean squeezed his eyes shut as Roy’s tongue forced its way in.  Even his kisses were aggressive tonight, and Jean whimpered into Roy’s mouth before he could think to stop it.  Roy angled his hips just a tad, and what little he sacrificed in rhythm by doing so, he made up for in _depth_.   Jean accidentally bit down on the other man’s lip as a surge of pleasure, stronger than ever, tore through him, followed by the familiar sensation of heat uncoiling in the pit of his stomach and spreading through his body like a tidal wave.  
  
He broke the kiss and reached between their bodies, shakily taking hold of his erection.  
  
“Roy…”  His voice was unsteady, his orgasm unavoidably close.  
  
Roy snaked his way between their abdomens and covered Jean’s hand with his own.  
  
“Together,” he commanded.  
  
They moved in unison, thrusting and stroking until Jean cried out sharply, his cock twitching and spilling between their intertwined fingers.  Roy immediately released him and began fucking him hard and fast, hips snapping ruthlessly as he pounded into Jean and grunting into his neck as he came, his body jolting as he spurted deep inside his partner's body.  
  
With leaden arms, Jean reached around Roy and grabbed onto his ass, holding him still until he went completely soft.  Eventually, Roy pulled out of him, prompting hisses all around, and flopped over onto his back.  Jean slung a tired arm around him and let out a trembling sigh as Roy’s cum slowly trickled out of him.  
  
“Damn,” he muttered, feeling sore and messy and wonderful.  
  
An exhausted Roy smirked in agreement.  
  
They remained that way for some time afterwards, wrapped up in each other and not saying a word.  Later, when Roy finally managed to sit up, Jean tried not to let his disappointment show.  He reminded himself again that this was a price he chose to pay for being with a man in Roy’s position.  They were not a normal couple, nor would they ever be.  Having to see him off in the middle of the night like this was one of the many things that he would have to get used to if their relationship stood any chance of surviving.  
  
So imagine his surprise when Roy turned to him and asked, “Do you have anything to eat?”  
  
*****  
  
As it turned out, Jean did.  
  
“What are you going to say to Breda and the others tomorrow?” Roy asked as he heartily bit into a sandwich that was overflowing with slices of leftover chicken.  Earlier, while they were getting dressed, he let it slip that he hadn’t eaten much for dinner.  Roy had glared daggers at Jean when the latter made the connection between his hunger and his jealousy, and then warned him to speak nothing of it.  Jean had practically eaten his cigarette to keep from smiling; he had already gotten away with calling Roy cute once that night.  He did not believe that he would be allowed to say it again without being punished severely.  
  
Still, to know that Roy had been _that_ worried about Jean’s date… It really was too fucking cute.  
  
“I suppose I don’t really have much of a choice but to tell them the truth,” he replied.  “Which is that I had a very nice time but I won’t be seeing her again.”  
  
Jean shifted in his seat and tried not to cringe from the discomfort.  While he had zero complaints about the sex, he was feeling incredibly sore after the fact.  The simple act of walking into the kitchen had been a task and a half, for goodness sake, and Jean hoped like hell that he would be able to move around properly by tomorrow, or his workmates would question that, too.  
  
“They’ll ask why,” Roy pointed out.  
  
“I know.” Jean shrugged and tapped ash into the ashtray on top of the table.  “I haven’t quite worked out that part just yet.  I mean, it’s not like I can just tell them that I’m in love with my commanding…”  
  
His eyes widened in horror when he realized exactly what he had just so casually admitted.  
  
“… officer,” he finished quietly, his face burning with humiliation.  
  
Jean could have thought of about a million other scenarios for a first time proclamation of love, none of them involving a sore ass and a post-coital snack.  He opened his mouth to speak again, with every intention of trying to talk his way out of his unintentional blunder.  But when he looked at Roy’s face, all of his possible excuses died in his throat.  
  
Roy was smiling at him.  
  
*****  
  
Roy could have imagined countless other scenarios for a first time proclamation of love, and none of them involving Jean’s sore ass and a chicken sandwich.  But yet there it was, out in the open, however unintentionally.  
  
In all honesty, he had absolutely _loathed_ the idea of Jean’s blind date, and he could have easily strangled Breda and Falman and Fuery for setting it up.  That evening, after picking at some take-out with no appetite whatsoever, Roy had grabbed the nearest bottle of liquor and paced around his living room for almost two hours straight.  He’d tried so hard not to think about what might have been taking place between Jean and his mystery woman, wondering whether or not he was having a good time and if he was realizing what he was missing out on by being with a man whose career would always take priority over anyone and anything else. Roy hadn’t wanted to break down and go to Jean’s house, either, because it felt like such a weak and desperate thing to do.  But he also knew that there was no way he would have gotten any sleep that night if he had stayed home.  Not that he would have dared to admit any of that when he finally confronted Jean; Roy had to try and save _some_ face, after all, even if Jean was obviously able to see through his act.  
  
But as it turned out, his worrying was all for nothing.  Jean was in love with him.  And it made him happier than he would have ever believed possible.  
  
“I’m sure you’ll think of something,” Roy reassured him, addressing the initial topic of conversation.  He reached across the table and slid his fingers through Jean’s, grazing his thumb along the other man’s wrist.  “And… since you so unceremoniously decided to say it first… I suppose I should tell you that I love you, too.”  
  
Their eyes met across the table.  Now it was Jean’s turn to smile.  
  
Having had his fill of embarrassing emotional exposure for one night, Roy grabbed his sandwich and resumed eating while Jean lit a new cigarette.  They made casual conversation until both the sandwich and the cigarette were gone, after which Jean glanced at the clock.  
  
“It’s pretty late,” he pointed out.  
  
“It is,” Roy agreed.  “... I was thinking that I would stay over tonight.”  
  
“What?”  Jean gaped in shock.  “But… I thought you didn't want to…”  
  
“Just for tonight,” Roy clarified firmly, well aware that he was breaking one of his own rules.  “If that’s okay with you.”  
  
“Of course it’s okay.”  
  
With that settled, Roy pushed his plate aside and stood up, then snorted laughter as Jean followed suit and gave him a pouty reprimand for poking fun at his wobbling legs.  
  
The couple made their way back to Jean’s newly made bed, where Jean set his alarm early enough to give Roy time to go home.  They crawled between the cool sheets, their bodies pressed close together and limbs intertwined.  They spoke in murmurs and whispers about things that didn’t matter, until Jean closed his eyes and didn’t open them again.  Roy managed to hold on a little while longer, just long enough to fully savor the moment (in spite of Jean’s snoring) and lament its inevitable passing before sleep finally claimed him, as well.  
  
And so the couple dozed peacefully, dreaming their respective dreams and completely unaware of the lone figure that had stood vigil in front of Jean’s house until it became apparent that Roy had no intention of leaving.


	7. All's Well

“Are you awake, Jean?”  
  
“... No.”  
  
Jean could sense that Roy was smiling. He burrowed his face in a nest of dark hair and responded with one of his own. Oh, how he wished that every single day could begin like this, snug in bed with his arms wrapped possessively around the man he loved.  
  
He raised his head long enough to peek at the clock on the nightstand. With that all too familiar sinking feeling, he saw that the alarm was set to go off in six minutes. The night had passed entirely too quickly.  
  
“How’d you sleep?” he asked as he slipped his hand beneath Roy’s shirt to caress the smooth skin beneath.  
  
Roy trembled as Jean’s thumb circled his belly button. “Fine, aside from you snoring in my ear all night.”  
  
“Did I?”  
  
“You did.”  
  
“Sorry.” Jean glanced at the clock again. Five minutes to go.  
  
Roy shrugged off the apology and turned over to face him. He was just barely visible in the darkness of the bedroom, where the first signs of morning had yet to slip through the closed curtains. But Jean saw all he needed to see, and he reached up and lovingly swept back a lock of Roy’s unkempt hair. It was hard to believe that in a few short hours, the same man who was leaning into his touch as if it was the most precious thing in the world would be sitting at his desk with a stern face and a commanding tone while his subordinates were completely oblivious to the softer side of his nature.  
  
Jean couldn’t help but feel special knowing it was a side of Roy that only he would ever have the pleasure of witnessing.  
  
“Thank you for staying over,” he whispered.  
  
“You’re welcome.”  
  
Jean closed his eyes. He did not want the visual reminder of how little time they had left together. Roy let out a long, tired sigh against his neck, and as if that wasn’t distraction enough, there was also the unfortunate matter of the morning erection that was digging into Jean’s thigh. What else could he do other than sling his leg over Roy’s and rub his own against him?  
  
“Damn it, Jean.” Roy moaned but made absolutely no move to pull away. “I have to go soon.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
“If you know, then what are you doing?” Roy asked shakily.  
  
Jean ran his hand over Roy’s shoulder and down his back, steadily lower, pushing past the other man’s shorts and grabbing his ass.  
  
“Giving you something to look forward to tonight.”  
  
He kept on grinding, hips bucking and thrusting, slow and hard. His cock strained against his shorts as it shifted eagerly against a gasping and shuddering Roy. Jean knew that he should probably stop before his plan backfired. All he had intended to do was give the man a playful little morning hump, but it never occurred to him that he would be so turned on that he might not even _let_ Roy leave before bending him over and--  
  
The alarm finally went off. At the worst possible time.  
  
The two men froze, their cocks twitching painfully alongside each other through very thin layers of clothing. Swearing under his breath, Jean reached over and turned off the alarm, even though throwing the damn thing across the room would have been far more satisfying. He then hit the switch on the lamp at his side and flopped onto his back with a disappointed sigh.  
  
Groaning, Roy got out of the bed and stretched. An amused Jean smiled as his gaze trailed down Roy’s body and settled on his crotch and the very obvious tent that now resided in his shorts.  
  
“Nice salute you got there,” he muttered with a grin.  
  
“Shut up.”  
  
Jean just managed to dodge the pillow that flew at his face and watched as Roy disappeared into the bathroom to get dressed. His smile faded the slightest bit when Roy closed the door because, in a way, the act itself, simple though it seemed, also signified the end of what would become a rarity in their relationship. It would be the last time that he would have the opportunity to enjoy spending an entire night with his lover, at least for the foreseeable future.  
  
The scenario was hardly ideal, but again, such was the choice that Jean willingly made. The arrangement that he wholeheartedly accepted.  
  
Because Roy was worth it. A thousand times over.  
  
*****  
  
As it turned out, Roy predicted correctly regarding the nosiness of Jean’s coworkers.  
  
The third degree began the moment that Roy stepped out of the office to meet with the Führer. Jean fielded their questions about Sheska as patiently as he could, but when he announced that there would be no second date, that was when the fun really started.  
  
“I don’t get it, Havoc,” Breda said. “If you had such a good time with her then _why_ aren’t you going to see her again?”  
  
Although Jean appeared calm as he lit a cigarette, he was inwardly calculating every word that would come out of his mouth. Even though he highly doubted that he would make the same mistake with Breda and the others that he made with Roy last night by blurting out his true feelings, it didn’t hurt to take precautions.  
  
“Because I’m just not interested in her like that,” he replied, hoping that would be the end of it and knowing damn well that it wasn’t.  
  
“But she’s so cute,” Breda pointed out.  
  
“And she’s smart,” Fuery said.  
  
“And she’s available,” Falman added.  
  
“Then one of _you_ can go out with her.”  
  
Jean took a long hit and regarded his stupefied companions. He honestly didn’t understand their confusion. Had he really come off so desperate in the past that they just couldn’t wrap their heads around the fact that he wasn’t interested in jumping all over Sheska?  
  
“Well, is there anyone else you’re interested in?” Breda asked.  
  
Good grief. The man refused to let it go.  
  
“If there is, I promise you’ll be the last one to know,” Jean replied.  
  
But Breda kept on poking and prodding and prying, until the lieutenant had no other choice but to threaten to sic Black Hayate on him. As expected, the big man immediately forgot all about Havoc’s love life in favor of climbing on top of a cabinet out of his fear of the supposedly ferocious canine that was far more interested in licking his own balls than attacking the whimpering man. It was hardly a permanent fix; Jean knew better than that. But hopefully, it would keep the trio from mentioning the subject again anytime soon.  
  
With that out of the way for now, he excused himself to go to the shooting range. And so he stepped out of the office and headed down the hallway, far too preoccupied with his own thoughts to notice the peculiar look that Hawkeye gave him as he left.  
  
*****  
  
Spying on Roy was never Riza’s intention. The fact of the matter was that trouble sometimes had a way of finding the officer outside of work and so just as she had taken to keeping a spare set of his gloves on hand, she had also started checking in on him occasionally in the hopes of avoiding any after-hours surprises.  
  
And there was no after-hours surprise greater than the one she discovered last night.  
  
For a number of years now, Riza had her suspicions about the man to whom she had committed her career. She liked to think that she knew Roy Mustang better than most people, and there was always something about the vast quantity of his supposed sexual conquests that hinted at overcompensation. Jean’s seemingly innocent proclamation coupled with Roy’s extended visit to his house only confirmed what she knew deep down all along.  
  
Not that it was any of her business and not that she cared one way or another, save for her personal disappointment over the realization of things that would never come to pass. Her top priority was and would always be doing her part to help Roy become the leader of the nation. She had no idea if this thing with Jean was merely a fling or something more serious, but she would do what she always did: protect him and guard his secrets as best she could.  
  
Even if he had no idea that she was doing it.  
  
*****  
  
Roy quickly polished off his second glass of whiskey and immediately signaled for a third. It was a sure-fire way to dull the pain of being subjected to endless pictures of the cutest little girl in the world without snapping.  
  
“And here is where Daddy is giving his little angel a horsey ride,” Maes explained as he shoved yet another photograph in Roy’s face. “And here is where Elysia and Daddy are having a tea party.”  
  
“You have ribbons in your hair,” Roy calmly observed.  
  
Maes smiled as he tucked the picture back into his wallet. “Yeah… well… she thought I should look pretty for the occasion.”  
  
Roy rolled his eyes and took another drink. It could never be said that Maes wasn’t devoted to his child.  
  
“But enough about me.” Maes leaned towards Roy before speaking again, his voice lower than before. “Who is he?”  
  
“What are you talking about?” Roy asked innocently.  
  
“You know damn well what I’m talking about,” Maes replied. “You met someone, didn’t you? I can tell.”  
  
Roy shook his head. “I didn’t meet anyone.”  
  
It wasn’t exactly a lie. He had known Jean all along.  
  
Maes was unconvinced. “You know you're going to tell me sooner or later.”  
  
“Preferably later,” Roy mumbled into his glass.  
  
“I _knew_ it.” Maes winked knowingly and took a drink of his own. “He must be pretty special since you’ve been blowing me off all this time.”  
  
“I have not been blowing you off,” Roy insisted. Then, upon further consideration, he added, “Much.”  
  
He sneakily diverted the conversation back to Maes’ favorite subject. After another hour of being bombarded with even more pictures of Elysia, the two men called it a night.  
  
“Are you ready to go?” Maes asked, standing up from his stool.  
  
Roy drained his glass and left his usual generous tip for the bartender. “Actually, I have a ride.”  
  
“You do?” Maes blinked at him. “Who?”  
  
“Hey, Chief,” Jean said as he approached the pair. “Hello, Major Hughes.”  
  
“Lieutenant Havoc,” Roy responded as he rose to his feet. “Right on time.” He glanced at Maes and tried not to laugh as his friend put two and two together, resulting in his comically stunned expression. “Close your mouth, Hughes. I’ll see you tomorrow.”  
  
“Goodnight, Major.” Jean nodded respectfully before following Roy out of the bar.  
  
The couple maintained a respectable distance between each other as they walked to Jean’s car.  
  
“Did you have a good day?” Jean asked as he settled into the driver’s seat. “Seems you spent more time out of the office today than in it.”  
  
“Pretty good, overall.” Roy sighed and let his head fall back against the headrest. “Except that thanks to your cockteasing, I spent most of it thinking about fucking you.”  
  
Jean chuckled as he slid the key into the ignition. “If it’s any consolation, the feeling was extremely mutual.”  
  
“Well, then.” Roy turned to look at him, his eyes full of all kinds of lewd intentions. “I suggest you get me home as soon as possible.”  
  
*****  
  
At the rate they were going, Roy was going to need a new bed within a month.  
  
But that hardly mattered to him at the moment, not when Jean was fucking him so roughly that he thought he might pass out.  
  
They had barely made it through the door before all pretenses were dropped and clothing was shed. After stumbling their way into the bedroom, Jean pushed Roy down on the bed and went to work, stretching him open until he damn near screamed at Jean to hurry up and fuck him.  
  
“More,” Roy ordered huskily, his legs locked around Jean’s waist and his fingers clawing at his back. After waiting all day for this, he wanted as much of it as the man was able to give. And then some. He had every intention of returning the favor later that night but for now it was enough, it was _more_ than enough, to see Jean writhing on top of him, to hear the repeated wet slap of their fucking, and to feel the slick in and out of Jean’s cock in his ass.  
  
He came fast, hard, and without even being touched. That he held out for as long as he did was nothing short of miraculous, especially after having to deal with an entire day’s worth of anticipation. Roy winced as Jean gripped a handful of his hair and pounded away at him until he stilled and grunted and collapsed on top of him. He tightened his hold around Jean, accepting his weight with a weary smile.  
  
“I think you broke me,” he croaked.  
  
“I think I broke _myself_ ,” Jean shot back.  
  
He pushed himself up on wobbling arms and managed to roll off of Roy and onto his back. Minutes passed before either man could do much of anything else.  
  
Eventually, Roy was able to move enough to reach into the nightstand drawer and pull out an ashtray.  
  
“What is this for?” Jean asked, staring at the ashtray that Roy placed on his stomach.  
  
“As I understand, it’s for cigarette ashes,” Roy responded with a smirk.  
  
Jean smiled at his smartass reply and yet again, Roy found himself wondering if the man had any idea just how truly gorgeous he was.  
  
“I told you before, Roy. I don’t want to smoke in your house. Besides, my cigarettes are in the other room.”  
  
“Yeah, well…” Roy grabbed the pack of cigarettes and the lighter that he purchased the day before and tossed them over to Jean. “There you go. Now shut up and have one.”  
  
Jean did as he was instructed. They talked while he smoked, about insignificant things, and when Jean used his free hand to grab onto Roy’s, Roy briefly wondered if the gesture should have elated him as much as it did. He felt sore and sticky, inside and out.  
  
But he was also very happy.  
  
“I have to go to West City for a little while,” he informed Jean. “... Would you like to come with me?”  
  
Jean was so taken aback by the request that all he could do was stare.  
  
“Obviously we won’t be able to… _be_ together,” Roy quickly added. “I'll be busy dealing with higher-ups and we'll have to sleep in separate rooms, but I figure it's still better than being hundreds of miles apart for who knows how long.  So...?”  
  
“Of course I’ll go.”  
  
Although Roy had no reason to think that Jean would have turned down the invitation, he was far more relieved than he realized. He stared down at the fingers intertwined with his and felt such an overwhelming sense of affection for the man beside him that he wasn’t quite sure what to say or do without embarrassing himself.  
  
While they would always be slaves to discretion, Roy felt like he had finally found the kind of relationship that he never thought he would be able to have.  
  
And he wasn’t about to give it up without a fight.  
  
“We’re going to make this work,” he said, squeezing Jean’s hand for emphasis.  
  
Jean pulled him close and kissed him hard. After they parted, he brought his forehead to rest against Roy’s.  
  
“I know.”  
  
And they did.  
  



End file.
